What's It This Time?
by Unconscious Again
Summary: The weather is terrible, Thomas is suspiciously innocent, and James wants to know where he signed up for this. A modern!AU twoshot. Also, Alex punches John Adams in the face.


**Greetings Earthlings! Yes, I've written Hamilton again. I don't know what possessed me, either. Anyhoo, here's yet another Modern!AU, inspired by something that actually happens to me. Part Two will be up god knows when, knowing my update schedule. This can be read as pre-slash, by the way, but mostly I'd call it friendship.**

 **Warning: I know approximately squat about American ... anything really, so if I screwed up any geography stuff I apologize. Also, I've never driven a car in my life. So we'll see how well that part turned out too.**

 **And on that note: enjoy!**

 **:::**

James Madison walked into the reception area of his workplace and his phone rang. Checking who it was, he sighed, accepting the call with a hint of a smile. "Yes, Thomas?"

"Jemmy!"

The voice on the other end was suspiciously jubilant, and the slightest bit sheepish. James narrowed his eyes. "What happened?" he asked resignedly.

A pause. Then,

"It's awfully cold out today, isn't it?"

Oh, no. James stepped out the door, opening his umbrella with one hand and clutching his phone with the other. Snow fell artfully all around as he began to make his way to his car, and the man was struck with a sudden feeling of gratitude he had had the sense that morning to heed the weather report and bring something to shield him from the drifting white flakes.

Cautiously, he responded, "Yes, it is. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well," his friend drawled from the other end, accent shining through, "you know how Hamilton and I had a case today, right?"

How could he not? Thomas had been grumbling about having to work on a case with the hot-tempered man since the two of them had been assigned it. Not, James reflected briefly, that that tarried the results at all; no, the men were sensible enough not to bring their arguments into their work. Most of the time, that is. However, they would grit their teeth and do their jobs, and their client would get acquitted.

Instead of saying all that, James replied, "Yes. How did it go?"

"Huh? Oh, fine; he got off - though I'm frankly shocked, seeing what a blunder Hamilton made with the witnesses. God, how much more of an idiot can the guy get?"

Ah, as predicted. James hummed along to Thomas' complaints, interjecting a comment here and there when he had the chance, and, reaching his car, fumbled with the keys to get it unlocked. "One second," he said, opening the door and climbing into the driver's seat. Once he was settled, he turned the ignition to let the car heat up, but made no move to drive anywhere. "Alright, go ahead."

"So then he tells the witness that they couldn't've been in the Empire State Building at the time, which, frankly, is not what you say to someone who's - oh. Huh. This isn't good."

The shorter man furrowed his eyebrows. "Thomas? What's going on?"

"We~ll," and James could just see the abashed grin on his face, "you know how, when you get too cold, your fingers stop moving at their usual speed?"

He didn't like where this was going. "...Yes?"

"Yeah, so that might've happened to me."

James frowned. "How come you're out in the cold? Aren't you home already?"

"About that..."

Oh no.

"I got a taxi here-" ('here'? That implied he was still there!) "-since my car's in for repairs, and I figured I could call one to get back too. Thing is, I forgot my gloves this morning, and when court let out, Hamilton and I had to stay out for a bit to deal with the press after.

"So that took a while, and by the time we were done Laf had come to pick Hamilton up. They offered me a ride, too - which normally I would accept. But that would mean more time stuck with Hamilton, so I said no. I would have hailed a taxi, but there haven't been any in the past hour, and right now my fingers aren't working enough to do anything but speed-dial you."

Oh, lord. Good thing he had just gotten off work. "So?"

"So, could you pick me up on your way?"

James sighed again. "Sure."

"Great! I'll be outside the courthouse waiting for you. See you in five minutes."

"Goodbye."

"Bye!"

James ended the call and closed his eyes for a minute. Then he opened them again and put his phone away, clicking on his seatbelt.

He had someone to save from their own idiocy.

 **:::**

James pulled up in front of Thomas just in time to see the man stop pacing wildly, hands in his pockets, and break into a grin. From the comfort of his car, James noticed the man was shivering in his coat, and as he unlocked the doors he cursed Thomas for so constantly sacrificing warmth for fashion.

The tall man was still cheerful as he wrapped his fingers around the door handle, tugged it open effortlessly, and clambered into the passenger seat. "Really Jemmy, I can't thank you enough for this." James raised an eyebrow and gave his friend a look, remembering how overboard he could get, and Thomas laughed. "Okay, so I could. I'm sure being in my presence is thanks enough."

Ah, there was the Thomas he knew. "I would really prefer you don't end up in this situation," James reprimanded mildly, scanning the other man to see how bad of a state he was really in and narrowing his eyes at what he saw. "How long did you have to have been waiting to be shaking this much?"

Thomas grimaced, presumedly in premature reply to James' reaction, and closed the car door. "An hour, maybe? An hour ten?"

James blinked. Stared. Blinked again. "Excuse me?" he managed. Thomas laughed awkwardly, fastening his seatbelt.

James absently turned a dial on the dashboard which controlled the heat in the car in order to up the temperature before placing his hands on the steering wheel and waiting until he could manoeuvre his vehicle into traffic. "What," he began slowly, pulling his car into the right-hand lane, "made you decide it was a good idea to wait an hour before calling someone in twenty-seven degree weather when you knew you had forgotten your gloves?"

Thomas glanced to his friend, then started gazing out the window. He didn't speak at first, and the car was silent for a moment. "You were the only one I could call," he replied cryptically, wiping away a patch of condensation on the glass with the back of his hand. James narrowed his eyes. "How so?"

It was discreetly not framed as an accusation. No, as far as his friend knew he was merely curious.

A chanced peek at Thomas showed him steadfastly avoiding looking at James. "You don't get off work until six," he muttered. James changed lanes, flicking his left turn signal on when the car began nearing the upcoming intersection. He didn't reply, instead giving the taller man time to choose his words.

Another pause, and then Thomas spoke. "I mean, you're my only speed-dial, and I couldn't exactly do much of anything with my fingers not moving right."

James took a sharp left at the stoplight when the flow of approaching cars waned enough to do so. Then, he rebuked, "Not quite."

"Huh?"

"... Never mind." James pulled into the middle lane, hypothesis having been confirmed since he noticed Thomas eluding his gaze. "So," he prompted after a beat of companionable silence, "what's the latest on Hamilton's punishment for punching Adams?"

Thomas laughed, launching into the story. James smiled, eyes glued to the road as he drove the remainder of the way to his friend's house.

 **:::**

"But really, Jemmy," Thomas babbled, "you should have seen his face. I mean, this is the stuff you can't make up-"

"Thomas," James prompted quietly.

"-so then Hamilton says, 'Well if you're so desperate to have someone agree with you, the best you're going to get is Burr. He doesn't have opinions anyways; I can't see him not humming along.' To which Lafayette adds-"

"Thomas?" James asked once again, a bit louder this time, wincing slightly as his friend slipped, as so often happened, into French.

"Alors il m'a dit de descendre de mes hautes chevaux, auquel j'ai répondu qu'il peut facilement-"

"Thomas!"

"Huh? What is it?"

James slapped a hand to his forehead. "You started speaking in French again."

Thomas looked bewildered. "I did? Damn." He paused, then narrowed his eyes. "You don't normally cut me off just for that, though. What did you really mean to say?"

James waved a hand in the direction of the passenger seat window. "We're here," he reported, ignoring his friend dramatically turning to check and proclaiming, "So we are."

Instead, the shorter man checked his watch. Six thirty. Well, at least he didn't live too far.

"Hey James."

"Yes?"

"I know that look. You live like twenty miles from here. I'm not even sure you have enough gas for the trip."

James shot Thomas a good-natured glare. "So that was your plan," he muttered under his breath. Thomas glanced at him. "Huh?"

"Never mind-"

"No," Thomas interrupted, unbuckling his seatbelt and shifting to fully face James, "now I'm curious." The taller man looked at the other shrewdly, serious. "While you don't talk that much, you're clever, Jemmy. What's going on in that head of yours?"

James disguised a wince with a cough. When Thomas, having caught his fake out, crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, waiting, James pursed his lips. Best get it over with quickly. "Your plan," he commented. "Not a bad one."

At least Thomas had the decency to make it obvious that his surprise was fake. "What do you mean, my plan?"

James barely held in A Look, instead tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. "You got off work an hour before you called me. You could have easily taken up Lafayette's offer, but let's say you really were tired of Hamilton. You can't blame the cabs. I know for a fact that in that part of town, at least five empty taxis should have passed you by while you waited. Besides that, there's a subway stop close to the courtroom that we just passed, and you always have tickets on you.

"So there are three ways you could have easily gotten home, but no, you waited to call me. You claim that I was your only speed-dial (which I know for a fact is false), but besides that your main point was that your fingers were working so poorly your only choice was speed-dial."

James turned away for a moment, coughing, before regaining composure and narrowing his eyes. "But no," he announced, "that's not true either."

Thomas crossed his arms and raised an elegant eyebrow. "And why would that be?"

The shorter man's lips flashed into a smirk for a split second. "I know it only takes a second or so to open a car door, Thomas, and you didn't take any longer than that. Ergo, your fingers are well enough to dial a taxi."

James looked out the windshield. "You knew I wouldn't have enough time to be home at a reasonable hour, and since it's a Friday, I don't have anything I need to bring from my house to work tomorrow - because, tomorrow being Saturday, I have no work."

Chancing a glance at his tall friend, he added, "There are easier ways to get to see me, you know."

There was a heavy pause, during which James watched his friend resolutely turning to stare at a bird that had perched on the car's windshield. Finally Thomas sighed, reluctantly catching friend's eye.

"Well damn. That was impressive."

James shrugged modestly. "Not really. I know how you think and my job is pointing out the flaws in people's arguments."

Thomas gave him a scrutinizing look that James couldn't quite decipher before shrugging, apparently to himself, and opening the car door. "Well," he proclaimed, climbing out of the vehicle, "you caught me." He pushed the door shut (James suspected purely for dramatic effect) before opening it again and sticking his head in the car. Gesturing to his house, he inquired, "You coming inside or what?"

James sighed for show but found himself smiling faintly as he turned off the ignition and exited the car, locking it and following his friend's impatient bouncing inside.

He supposed getting home could wait. And he hadn't seen Thomas for a while.

Closing the door to Thomas' house behind him, he gave the man an amused glance.

"But really, there are much simpler ways to get to see me."

"Jemmy, and I mean this in the kindest and most caring way possible: shut up."

 **:::**

 **So, what did you think? Did I make driving a car even remotely realistic? Let me know in the comments!**

 **See ya!**

 **-Unconscious Again**


End file.
